Sadie Hawkins by Martin Miller

I got into Stephanie’s lime green Beetle and she handed me a red rose. “Thank you,” I said, sliding into the pleather seat.

She had asked me to the Sadie Hawkins two days before. I hadn’t thought I’d be going; it had been weeks since the sort of magical any-girl-might-ask-me period dissolved into no-one’s-going-to. I couldn’t believe it. Stephanie Jackson wasn’t someone it had even occurred to me to like.

“She plays all her own instruments, you know. Dubs them over,” she said. I nodded quietly to indicate that I was impressed. Her face glowed in the dashboard lights and I tried not to watch her drive.

The gym was decorated like the inside of a barn: hay bales lining the walls, the refreshments labeled “Pig’s Trough.” All the “animals” stood clumped near the entrances, looking nervous and over-groomed.

I saw Anna Oxford detach herself from the bunched couples and come towards us. Anna scared the shit out of me. Short strawberry blonde hair and green eyes that flashed, do not touch. I didn’t even think she knew my name.

“Drew!” she said. “What’s up?”

“Hi!” I said. “What’s up with you?” Too much? Not enough? Say something else? She smiled at me and turned to Stephanie, leaving me to turn the beginning of my next sentence into an exaggerated yawn.

Stephanie glanced at me and pulled Anna away, handing me her purse. The DJ started warming up, and as people filed in, I wished fervently that I were not standing alone in the middle of the gym with a purse. After a few minutes, Stephanie walked back, Anna-less. She asked me something. “What?” I said.

“What’s up?” she shouted.

“You want your purse?”

“Oh yeah.” She looked distracted. After a second she walked over to an empty hay bale and I followed her. It seemed like everybody was watching.

We met in AP Chemistry, where I sat behind her for two weeks before we talked to each other. Five days a week, fifty minutes a day. Finally, when Mr. Spencer plugged a pickle into the wall – literally, plugged it into the wall to show us how sulfur glows yellow – she said something to me. “That smells like shit,” she said.

Two days later we were assigned to be lab partners. I don’t remember what we were doing, seeing if calcium precipitated from something, but we had to wait and watch for half an hour, with nothing else to do. After a minute or so of sitting, I asked her something – I don’t know, if she’d always lived in Georgia – and she just started talking. It was bizarre. She rarely made eye contact, didn’t seem to expect me to say much – just watched the electrified solution and talked. On the first day of lab she told me how her parents had divorced, her dad leaving her and her mother with a huge, empty house and a collection of trust funds labeled “Stephanie’s car” or “Stephanie’s college.” By day three I knew about all four guys she’d dated – mostly about the last guy, Jared. Jared ate two meals for every one of hers, towered over her at six feet five, started every game with the basketball team, led them to the state championships. Jared who had to have words defined sometimes, but scored higher than she had on the PSAT. Jared, who was now dating her best friend, Anna, just a week after Stephanie had dumped him.

Stephanie had this really pretty, long brown hair and she’d pause sometimes and chew on it absently. Then she’d keep talking like she hadn’t stopped.

On Thursday the lab was over and we were back in our seats, lab reports written up and turned in, and I asked her how she was doing. She glanced back at me, said “Fine,” and that was it, done. For a week, nothing else at all, and then she turned around and asked me to Sadie.

Anna was coming towards us with Jared. How a guy looks that put together, I still don’t know. Some guys in that crowd, it was clear that they practiced the way they talked, dressed, pushed their hair back, laughed at jokes, whatever. Jared was not that guy. He just sort of happened to be cool, funny, coordinated and good looking.

Anna flopped down in front of us and I was aware that her tank top was pretty loose. Glancing down would’ve been a bad move, though; Jared was standing in front of me, his hand extended.

“Hey, man,” he said, as we clasped hands. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Sadie Hawkins, pretty good.” I don’t really know what that meant.

“Yeah.” He paused for a second. “Hey Stephanie.”

“Oh, hey,” she said, noticing him. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’. You know, same old.”

“Yeah,” Stephanie said distractedly, looking for something in her purse. After a second she looked up. “You want to be a dear and get me some punch?”

Anna glanced at her and poked Jared in the kneecap. “Me, too,” she said. Jared walked off obligingly.

I figured it was about time for me to say something. “You guys look really nice, by the way.” They did.

“Thanks,” said Stephanie. She’d given up on her purse. “Do you have a tampon?” I stopped myself quickly – she was asking Anna.

“No. There’s the machine, though.”

“Yeah,” said Stephanie. “Be back in a minute.” She turned to me and smiled for the first time that night. “You look nice, too.” She was walking away before I could thank her.

Anna tilted her head up to look at me. “Hey Drew,” she said.

“Hey,” I echoed. “There are a ton of people here.”

“Yeah. Nothing better to do, I guess.” She looked towards the back of the gym from where Jared still hadn’t returned with her punch. I followed her glance. He was over at the table, two cups in his hand, talking to Stephanie. She had one hand on his arm. I won’t say I felt jealous, because that would’ve been pretty out of line, but there was a twinge of... something. “What do you think of that?” she asked me.

“Of what?”

“Our dates, chatting it up over there.”

“No big deal,” I said. I couldn’t tell if she was teasing me. “I mean, they’re friends, right?”

“They haven’t talked since they broke it off,” she replied, looking calmly back at where I was perched. “So no, not really.”

“Ah.” I didn’t know what to say. Anna seemed totally unruffled. We watched as the DJ tried to rile up some more couples to join the six people halfway-dancing. I resisted the urge to look back towards the refreshments. Anna didn’t hold out as long.

“Motherfuckers,” she muttered.

“What?” I looked back. Jared’s two cups were on the table and both he and Stephanie were nowhere to be seen. There was a forceful pull on my arm and suddenly I was up and stumbling towards the doors.

“Come on,” Anna shouted over the Thong Song.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re leaving.”

Outside, Anna stormed past distracted couples and a Honda’s headlights blinked ahead as she led me along. “Wait,” I said.

“What?”

“Why are we going? They could’ve just went to talk –”

“Drew, don’t take this personally, but don’t be an idiot. She planned this, OK? She’s probably not even on her fucking period.”

“How...”

She was holding the passenger door open. “Come on.”

“But where are we going?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I got in. As she turned on the ignition, music blared from the stereo – classic rock – and she slammed it off. We backed up, revved out of the parking lot and were gone, slaloming along the country road. I felt dizzy. I could only really see her in the flashes of oncoming headlights, flipping from brights to low beams at the top of hills. Her eyes were blinking every five seconds. I felt like I was invading somebody else’s world.

In the privacy of the passenger seat, I finally asked myself the question I hadn’t dared ask before: why did Stephanie Jackson ask me? She barely knew me. The way she talked about Jared, though – and then the last-minute invite, and now this ruse about a tampon – it all added up to the pretty miserable fact that there was someone in the world cruel enough to drag a guy to the Sadie Hawkins just to ditch him and hook up with her best friend’s boyfriend.

After a few minutes, Anna slowed down, and pulled to a stop on the shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s OK.”

“No. Not really. That was stupid. But. I don’t know, I guess I saw it coming, is all.”

“Yeah?” Wish I had.

“Yeah.” She turned her head towards her window and we sat for what felt like five minutes straight. I wanted to tell her that I felt really awful for her, that it was a lot better to be used than betrayed. I imagined her crying silently, prepared myself for the tears that would be in her eyes when she turned back to me. Then, suddenly, she did turn back.

“Truth or dare,” she said.

“What?”

“One or the other.” Was she serious?

“Um. ... Truth?”

“Pussy. Ok, what’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

This was unexpected. I told her about the time I singed my brother’s eyebrows by lighting a bucket of gasoline outside our house when I was a kid. She looked amused. She offered up her own stupidest thing: apparently, as a CNA working at an Atlanta hospital on a summer internship, she tripped the emergency circuit in the basement, interrupting more than a dozen surgeries throughout the building as backup systems kicked in. Nobody was hurt, but that was luck, and she lost the job. Then, she prompted, it was my turn to say, “Truth or Dare.”

I looked at Anna and was surprised to find her looking back at me. I felt juvenile and too grown up all at once as I asked her, “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” she said instantly, not breaking the gaze. “What’s the best you got?”

“Um.” I had no idea. “Sing the Barney theme song?”

She actually burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? How old are you?” She looked like she wanted to pinch me and see if I was real. “Come on, Drew, don’t disappoint me here.”

I didn’t want to. A car blazed past on the highway and I had a bold idea. “All right, you ready for this?”
“Born ready, kid.”

“Moon the next car that comes by.”

She looked intrigued and, after a minute, “Good one. Look that way, if you please.” I did. I heard pants unzip, rustling clothes, and then the sound of a car flying by. “You’re safe.”

I looked back. Anna was sitting with her hands on the wheel, cheeks flushed, a huge grin on her face. She looked really pretty and I had a surge of feeling that I was here by mistake, this whole night was somebody else’s adventure –

She looked at me. “Now, Truth or Dare.”

“I know what you want me to say,” I answered. “But.” And then, defiantly, “Truth.”

“You incredible bastard. Fine. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done to somebody?”

“The worst thing?”

“Like, the thing that hurt somebody the most. The absolute, most asshole thing.”

I was bound by the unbendable laws of Truth or Dare to answer honestly, but as I racked my mind, nothing came. I had hurt people, sure, but not intentionally, not in a way that would measure up to Anna’s expectations. Years of interactions and lies and misunderstandings flowed through my head, but no single event seemed to qualify. I knew I was going to disappoint her. Finally, though, I had to say, “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit,” she said.

“I really don’t. I can’t think of one thing. I mean, I’ve been pretty crappy to my parents sometimes, but I don’t think I really hurt them... I haven’t ever really... I just don’t like hurting people, you know? That sounds really cheesy. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

“No,” she said, looking at me with a laugh in her eyes. “I mean, yeah, it’s sorta cheesy but, it’s OK.” She arched an eyebrow. “Still, if you can’t handle the Truth...”

I gave in. “Fine,” I said. “Dare.”

She leaned forward. “Kiss me.”

If Anna hadn’t been driving I wouldn’t have gone back. “Home?” She said. “If you want a ride home you can call a cab. I paid twenty bucks for two tickets and I’m going to dance.”

I saw her when we walked in, sitting along the edge of the auditorium, just sort of watching. I don’t think I’d ever seen Stephanie alone before. She looked up and saw us and I thought about pretending I hadn’t noticed. But Anna bounded right over and I followed.

“Where’d you guys go?” Stephanie asked me.

“Taco Bell,” Anna answered. “Long as you guys were ditching us, we figured we could get a bite to eat.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she meant it. “We really needed to talk.”

“Whatever,” said Anna. “Let’s dance.”

The last thing I wanted to do was dance. For one thing, I was nowhere near as good as Anna at pretending like everything was cool, that Stephanie hadn’t just manipulated her ex-boyfriend back into (most likely) the back seat of her car. For another, I can’t dance.

Stephanie looked disappointed and I tried to look apologetic as I retreated outside “to go call my mom.” Instead, I stood and looked up at the stars, feeling momentarily poetic. You couldn’t see much for the streetlights.

“Hey, man.” Jared was sitting a ways down at a picnic table in shadow. I wouldn’t have seen him if he hadn’t said something.

“Hi.” I walked over. I wondered if he might apologize, or if he’d play it off.

“How’s your night?” Play it off, apparently.

“It’s been all right. Yours?”

“Honestly?” Something was off about him. The way he was looking out at the parking lot, he could’ve been anybody I knew. “Pretty shitty, bud. But it’s my fault, so don’t sweat it.”

Jared was either a damned good actor or – I wasn’t sure what. “You OK?” I said, knowing it was stupid. Like he was looking to me for help.

He was quiet for a minute. Then, “I’ll be OK. And I tell you what.” He looked at me. “You’re a lucky guy. And I’m an idiot. But that’s the way things go, right?” He stood up. “Where’d you go?”

“Taco Bell?” I said.

“We saw you tear out of here, pretty crazy.” He grinned, a bit forced. “All right. I’m going to go find Anna. See you inside.”

And he went. I couldn’t process the conversation, it didn’t seem to fit in my head. I wasn’t sure if I should go back in (and then what?) or call my mom and wait here until she picked me up. But shouldn’t I wait for Anna? She was in there dancing with the girl who’d stolen away her boyfriend. It didn’t make any sense.

Stephanie came out and I saw her coming but didn't look until she tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

“Kind of stuffy in there,” I said.

“Yeah. Did you get ahold of her?”

“No, she didn’t pick up.”

She walked around in front of me. “You should come dance with us. Jared came back and I’m a third wheel if you’re out here.”

I decided to be honest with her. “I can’t dance.”

She laughed. “You’re a guy. You don’t have to. Just stand around and sway and put your arms up every so often.”

I laughed, too, but she must’ve seen that I didn’t mean it.

“Look,” she said. “I’m really sorry we disappeared like that. He wanted to talk, and he’s been calling a lot, and... I felt like I owed it to him.” She paused. “But at least you guys got along, right? I mean, at least you weren’t bored.”

I had this sudden, sinking awful feeling inside of me and I couldn’t even look her in the eyes. I wanted to believe she was lying to me, but frankly, what I had thought made a lot less sense. No, we hadn’t been bored. Jesus.

I managed to look up eventually. She looked concerned, and understandably confused.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“Listen, Stephanie. I – hey. Why did you ask me here, anyway?”

She glanced away, embarrassed, maybe? Distant. “I guess. I’ve had some bad experiences lately. And you seem like a really nice guy.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Sure. I mean, sorry. With Jared and—Anna, she always... It’s.” A beat. “It’s been a tough couple of weeks.” She looked like she needed a hug. I felt like melting into the grate I was standing on.

After a minute, she looked back at me, like nothing had happened. “So. You coming inside?”

“I’ll be there in a sec.” She reached out and gave my hand a quick squeeze, flashed a self-conscious half-smile, and pushed back through the double doors.

I called my mom and waited at the picnic table until I could go home.

On Monday we were assigned new lab partners. We were adding drops of clear stuff to milky stuff every thirty seconds until it turned purple. Between drips, I stole a glance to Stephanie’s corner. She was standing with the pipette in hand, her partner telling her something. She glanced up at me.

“Hey, hey, that’s good, stop!” Our solution was deep purple and I jumped guiltily away. In the corner, Stephanie was looking down again, intent on the beaker in front of her, quiet.